What Price Glory II
by Nozem
Summary: The tale of witch-hunter captain Waldemar Schmidt


1 Chapter 2 – Gathering Information  
  
Schmidt and Heinrich followed the elder into a large house opposite of the gate as the other men were escorted to the local tavern to rest up. The house looked imposing in the low light of the torches, with large arched windows and a number of gargoyles scattered across the edges of its roof.  
  
As they entered the house through a large door covered in pieces of parchment a black cat ran across the marble floor of the main hall. Schmidt cursed and reached for the hand-crossbow he always kept hidden in his coat. Sigmund stepped in front of him just as he was about to unleash Sigmar's righteous fury on the furry animal.  
  
"Captain! I have granted you entry into my village, I have even let you into my home!" the angry old man shouted, "do you plan to repay me by killing my beloved pet?"  
  
Schmidt lowered his crossbow and disarmed the weapon. Sigmund snatched it from his hand and smashed it on the floor.  
  
"No weapons are allowed!" he continued, "what were you thinking? Violating our laws in such a manner!"  
  
Schmidt held up his hands in a sign of peace but once again Heinrich stepped in front of him. The warrior-priest had learned many things about Schmidt over the years they had been companions, but one of the most prominent things was the lack of diplomacy that he possessed.  
  
"Please forgive him, elder," Heinrich said, "he is a witch-hunter of the sacred order of the Templars of Sigmar."  
  
Sigmund laughed. He knew of the temper and willingness to fight that characterised the witch-hunters. There had been many that passed through Kellberg on their way to the City of the Damned. None of them were ever seen again though.  
  
"I forgive you, captain Schmidt," he said as he picked up the pieces of the crossbow, "although I couldn't have said the same if you'd had killed my cat."  
  
The animal in question walked to Sigmund from its hiding-place under the table. It purred loudly as it rubbed past the robed leg of its master. Sigmund bent over slowly, feeling the pain of old age running down his back. He petted the cat and gave it a little push to get it to leave.  
  
"Now, gentlemen," he grunted softly as straightened his back, "let us retire to my chamber and discuss business."  
  
The personal chamber of Sigmund was very different from the other rooms in the house. Where the rest had been very simple and furnished only with the utmost important this room was a virtual paradise. The floor was carpeted, which was a welcome change to the marble, and beautiful silk tapestries adorned the windows. The three men sat down in chairs made of dark wood lined with red satin.  
  
"I'll explain to you why we are here elder," Schmidt said, "we are on our way to the City of the Damned in search of a man called Helmut von Spieldorf."  
  
Sigmund widened his eyes, indicating that he knew of the man. He quickly glanced down to the floor to hide his expression.  
  
"He is said to be hiding there after having committed several acts of body- snatching and kidnapping," the witch-hunter continued.  
  
Sigmund got up out of his chair and walked over to a small table in a corner of the room. He picked up a bottle of liquor and opened it, letting its contents pour into a finely polished crystal glass. Both Heinrich and Schmidt refused the glass offered to them, although both for different reasons.  
  
"But these crimes do not sound as matters of the Templars. What interest does the order have in these trivial matters?" Sigmund asked and sipped on his liquor.  
  
"It is not your right to know," Schmidt replied harshly, "but let me just say that his victims have turned up afterwards."  
  
Sigmund looked at the witch-hunter with a puzzled look in his eyes.  
  
"But, captain, there is no problem then," he said, "even the authorities of emperor Karl Franz himself would let the crimes pass if no permanent harm was done."  
  
Schmidt looked the old man straight in the eyes. Something in Schmidt's eyes made Sigmund shudder.  
  
"The undead," he said slowly, "are no light matter. They must be dealt with swiftly and without mercy."  
  
A knock on the door broke the tension. Sigmund opened the door and welcomed a misshapen man who stood in the candlelit hallway. The man sat down on the floor opposite of Heinrich, never taking his eyes off the warrior-priest.  
  
"This is Lukas," Sigmund said, "he is well known in these parts for being a traveller, maybe he can offer some assistance."  
  
Lukas nodded to say welcome to the two followers of Sigmar.  
  
"I sent for him after you entered my village," Sigmund continued, "I thought he might be of some assistance on your quest."  
  
Schmidt turned to Lukas and told him the same as he had told Sigmund, keeping the most vital information to him self. He did not trust the little man, but as being a witch-hunter, the only person he really trusted was himself.  
  
"I know him, but only by reputation," said Lukas, "I have heard rumours of someone matching his description taking up residence in a small camp near the Garden of Remembrance."  
  
Schmidt took a piece of parchment and a quill from his pouch, and wrote down the information Lukas gave. Apparently the Garden of Remembrance lay on the outskirts of the City of the Damned. It was a ruin now, more from age than the wrath of Sigmar.  
  
"Thank you for your cooperation, Lukas," Schmidt said as he shook the stubby fingered hand of the little man, "Sigmund, Heinrich and I wish to rest before going to the Garden of Remembrance in the morning."  
  
The elder shook his head and showed the men to the guest-quarters. As he closed the door behind him he saw Lukas standing at the front door. He looked at Sigmund before slipping out into the cold night. The old man sighed and went back to his own chamber.  
  
"Why did she ever let it come this far?" he thought as he blew out the candle next to his bed, letting darkness take control of the room. 


End file.
